


Loquacity and Eloquence

by Enigel



Category: Boondock Saints
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigel/pseuds/Enigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Sarah in the Yuletide 2008 Challenge.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Loquacity and Eloquence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sarah in the Yuletide 2008 Challenge.

Greenly is speaking with gusto, talking, talking, talking, some hare-brained theory involving, much to Smecker's chagrin, dwarfs. Not the mythological kind, thank God for small favors, but the circus kind, which doesn't rate much higher in Paul's books as explanation for the current conundrum.

Agent Smecker is prey to a ferocious headache, his CD player is out of batteries, and if Greenly doesn't stop...

"Greenly. Stop. Talking. Now."

"But you weren't even listening to my..."

"Greenly!" Paul shouts and grabs Greenly's face between his hands, and hallelujah! the man finally stops talking. He appears to have stopped breathing altogether. Paul kisses him with merciless, surgical precision, and gazes into his eyes as he shatters Greenly's worldview into a million little ignorant pieces, then stomps on them and sets them on fire.

After a good minute of that he stops and distances himself cautiously from Greenly.

Greenly blinks, but stays silent. Paul looks up into the sky and says emphatically: "Amen! We both win."

Greenly blinks again.

"I hope you feel honored, Greenly. I only use this technique on people who've already earned it by demonstrating at least some measure of IQ. Unless I'm working undercover, which I'm not today, as you've surely noticed with your vast intellect."

Greenly breathes. Good, he wouldn't want to be blamed for a lethal attack on a man of the uniform.

Paul pats his arm.

"To work now, to work. You've got to preserve your ranking, Greenly, or it's back to coffee and bagels for you."

Greenly blinks twice, rapidly, then sets to work in blessed silence.

Good, thinks Paul, not a bad investment after all.

* * *

The summary of the current investigation stands as such:

1\. Three very dead individuals, identified by multiple sources as bigwigs in the local mafia.

2\. More blood types at the crime scene than the three dead bodies should account for.

3\. Agent Smecker's speculation that this is related to those crazy brilliant boys from Boston (via Ireland).

The last part has not been shared with anyone else.

He doesn't know for sure, but that intuition has never led him wrong before. Paul can see them if he closes his eyes: dressed in black from head to toe, Connor's hair spiking red-blond through the ridiculous cap he's wearing, and that he makes look good, and Murphy mirroring his every move, eyes gleaming with intelligence and purpose.

Agent Smecker sends his tie flying across the desk, and he Does. Not. Care. what the cops think.

He imagines the brothers talking in those lilting voices, in languages only they understand; he can see them plotting the hit, moving more or less smoothly and according to the plan, and then something going wrong. Unexpected fourth goon? Accident? Bad luck?

Paul slaps his hands on the desk and lets his head droop.

He doesn't impart his visions to Greenly, who is merely staring wide-eyed and waiting for the grand reveal.

"Many great deeds may have been accomplished by standing and staring, my friend, but allow me to doubt sincerely that you may be on your way to one."

Greenly sighs.

"How do you want your coffee?"

Paul raises his eyebrows.

"While I thank you for your magnanimous concern, you won't get off the hook so easily with this one. Put on your gloves. We're going to look for more evidence."

* * *

The first disturbing sign Agent Smecker has that day is the large group of multicolored vehicles parked in the proximity of the scene. The vehicles belong to a circus. Paul doesn't want Greenly to get a swollen head, so he sends Duffy to investigate.

Sure enough, the circus has a rather large assembly of midgets. Paul sighs and turns his ear to Greenly's latest theory, which he seems extremely anxious to share.

"A six pack of beer, like, Guinness or something. And I think one half went over there and, um, the other half broke and someone cut their hand in the shards, hence the blood!"

Greenly turns this way and that, trying to follow him and catch his eye. Paul is pacing nervously, finger itching to press the play button and drown this nonsense with the divine harmonies of Verdi, when he sees one of Greenly's particularly weird grimaces. Mike is also holding both index fingers in a peculiar position, which might suggest pulling the trigger of a gun with each of them.

Paul's eyes widen in shock. Greenly is trying to speak to him in code! And the skies did not crack open. There's only so much shock he can take over the course of a case.

He risks a look around. Duffy has obviously tuned out Greenly's voice and is looking up into the sky, probably evaluating the risk of his tie getting wet before the case is wrapped up. Dolly is listening to Greenly, but not hearing him.

And Greenly is trying to tell him that he thinks one of the brothers is in danger, which means the other one must be nearby, ready to tear the world apart.

* * *

Smecker and Greenly sit face to face at a small table in a restaurant that isn't entirely shabby and rat-ridden, but that didn't require a dress code either. It's a reasonable compromise for both of them.

"So," starts Paul conversationally. "It was midgets after all."

Greenly grins proudly.

Paul takes the wine bottle from the waiter and pours into Greenly's - Mike's - glass.

Greenly blinks again in that entirely not endearing deer-in-the-headlights way of his, and a blush creeps up his cheeks. Paul takes mercy on him and clinks his glass against Greenly's.

"Congratulations, Mike! You've just obtained the right to fall from much greater heights than before."

To his credit, Greenly doesn't panic, but drinks his wine with a certain amount of smugness in his stance.

"All we have to work on now is that you've gone to the other extreme. You're displaying an uncharacteristic lack of verbosity, Greenly. Something wrong?"

"Ahem. Well, I thought you hated it when I'm, um, verbose, and since we're celebrating the closure of the case, I didn't want to ruin the mood, as it were."

Paul doesn't say anything, but purses his lips and plays with his fork.

Greenly follows his eyes and Paul has the pleasure of seeing comprehension crawl slowly over his features.

"On the other hand," Greenly says tentatively, "I should think the mood can be ruined by too much silence too. I mean, there's silence and there's that awkward 'what the fuck do I say next' pause, and my theories only saw the light of day because I talked, despite people trying to stop me or thinking I'm too stupid to be allowed to talk. And since we've cooperated on this case, we should get an equal share in... Mmph."

Paul grins wolfishly as he delights in shutting up Greenly again, the best way he knows how, and Greenly proves to be a rather persevering student in this area too.


End file.
